


We're just natural disasters waiting to happen

by Istilldontcareaboutmyname



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: A match made in the stars, Alternate Universe, And we're going to give him one, Chanel boots and Armani armor, Din is just stumbling around, Han is amused, Like the good side-character he believes himself to be, Luke Skywalker is walking disaster and we love him for that, Luke Skywalker wants a hunky space bf, Luke forgets how to speak, M/M, Pining, but who wouldn't?, leia is done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:54:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28534725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Istilldontcareaboutmyname/pseuds/Istilldontcareaboutmyname
Summary: Luke was ready to teach his first student. But to meet his parent? Not so much.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 33
Kudos: 640





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how to feel regarding this work. I'm not that deep in the SW fandom, since I've only watched the series and the last three movies of the original six. But, with the help my memories of watching the movies together with my dad when I was little, my shipping goggles, Ao3 and a glass of wine, this baby was born.  
> Luke is a disaster gay who lost all dignity when he met a hot dad, Din is clueless and Grogu just wants his dads together and happy. And Leia wants a break from her brother's drama.  
> I'm also working on a fic where Din keeps finding Force-sensitive children, based on a Tumblr post I can't find anymore. It was by @din-skywalker (too tired to link it, sorry).

The call comes when Luke least expects it, and he nearly chokes on his spoon, if it weren’t for Leia. It’s a weak connection, tentative at best, with lots of images instead of words. The child is small, but talented, offering up images of eras long gone, of an all-consuming darkness that makes his chest ache and the warmth and safety of a father, of blinding hope and biting worry.

He’s barely up from his seat when the connection cuts out, and he’s left with a bitter aftertaste of horror and an urgency that settles deep in his bones. The child is worried, about himself and the safety of his father, and is uncertain if his father will be enough to solve the problem this time.

“Artoo, get ready. We’re going on a mission!” He sprints to his room, nearly tripping in his own feet as Leia follows him, worried.

“What’s going on?”

“A child reached out to me!” He tells her, ecstatic even in the dire situation. His clothes are flying out of the closet, and he curses when he can’t find his boots. “And I’m going to save him and his father!”

“Do you even know where they are?” She hands him the boots when he slumps on the ground, defeated and clutching his cloak. He nods in thanks, rushes to pull them on, then runs out the door, his lightsaber flying after him when he remembers he left it on the nightstand.

“A cruiser, I think. But I’ll let the force lead me to them!”

“Won’t you need a bigger ship?” She yells after him, but Luke shakes his head, waving at Threepio when he reaches the front door. He’s pretty sure the father had a ship.

* * *

The child’s – Grogu – father is a Mandalorian. A very heavily armed Mandalorian, clad in beskar from head to toe with a deep voice and Luke feels his knees grow weak. Grogu toddles forward, offering him images of the man defeating stormtroopers and various creatures all across the universe. Was that a kriffing krayt dragon? The man was insane. And apparently the new ruler of Mandalore. Leia was going to kill him.

Then the man takes off his helmet and Luke short-circuits. His mind goes blank, fancy speech forgotten. He has to stomp down on his urge to flirt. He had more self control than this. He wasn’t Han. He wasn’t Han, but the man was so handsome and brave and mysterious and powerful and – kriff.

Artoo pokes him in the leg when the elevator doors close, and he nearly drops the kid. The droids starts berating him, but Luke feels like he’s underwater.

“What do you mean I didn’t introduce myself?” Grogu blinks up at him, shaking his head softly, and Luke feels like the ground has been pulled out from under his feet. He was so screwed.

* * *

“Let me get this straight,” Han tells him, hands clasped together under his chin, Chewie nodding along to the conversation while also trying to keep his hair out of Grogu’s mouth. “You went to save a random child because he called you through the Force, found out his father happens to be the new king of Mandalore, got so star-struck you forgot how to speak, then walked away with the kid?”

“That’s it.”

“Did turning around never occur to you, kid? You weren’t off the ship when you remembered it!”

“Well, I-” He could feel his ears turn pink, amusement thick in the air around him. Even Grogu looked like he was laughing at him.

“You didn’t want to ruin your dramatic exit? Just remember to notify me in advance before you decide to tell Leia. I want to be out of the way while also having a nice view of everything. And don’t worry, Chewie, I’ll be recording it!”

* * *

It takes the Mandalorian two months to find them, without any of his family ever meeting the man. Although he’s not certain on that part. Han did know a lot of people. And to make matters even worse? Luke didn’t even sense him approaching, so he had no time to change. He was certain meeting royalty in sweaty work-out clothes was an offence _somewhere_. But did the man even care about that?

Grogu is the first to notice the Mandalorian, toddling over to a nondescript part of the clearing, arms raised and babbling excitedly. There are images of his father flooding his mind, the heady, and almost flowery, feelings of joy and love radiating from him in waves. For a moment, Luke is crushed, then the Mandalorian walks into the clearing, riffle missing from his back.

“Hey there, kiddo.” His voice is soft and warmth engulfs everything, making Luke’s heart stutter. Even with the helmet, he can feel how his expression softens, pulling Grogu close to his chest. Was it too soon to ask for his hand in marriage? Would that cause an intergalactic incident?

* * *

Leia takes one look at him and starts laughing. Luke ducks his head, trying to hide his blush. The air is thick again with amusement, Grogu also joining Leia in her laughter.

“How much until I can call you ‘your highness’?” She asks, and he throws a pillow at her head, growling in irritation.

“Never.”

“Oh, honey. You couldn’t talk to him?” Leia pats him on the shoulders while Grogu climbs into her lap, squealing in affirmation. “It’s been months!”

“Don’t even start.” He groans, and Grogu pats his arm in encouragement. “I wish I had a helmet when your dad comes around.”

* * *

“Mando?” He asks, rushing forward when said man nearly falls out of his ship. Mando groans into his shoulder and Luke winces when his hand comes away sticky, the metallic scent of blood nearly overcoming the cloudy press of worry.

“I’m fine…” He tries to step away from him, but sways, nearly falling over. Luke curses, sending Leia a mental message to keep Grogu busy for a while.

“No, you’re not. Now, come on. My sister is keeping your son busy. And you’re heavy.”

* * *

Taking care of a Mandalorian turns out to be a hassle. First, taking off his armour is nigh impossible without dislodging his helmet. Then, manoeuvring him around so Luke can treat his wounds and the man is also comfortable is like playing chess against Leia. And finally, muscles and uncovered skin. A wast spread of tanned skin, littered with various scars and so warm to the touch is now offered up to Luke, and he’s certain there’s drool covering his shirt.

Mando moves his hand, muscles flexing under his touch and he can’t stop the noise that escapes his lips. He looks back at him, and Luke feels his ears and cheeks turn red. He stares pointedly at his hands, trying to ignore that those are currently on the source of all his problems.

“Are you okay?”

“I should be asking you that,” he responds, and Mando huffs at him, turning back around with a groan and…Luke has a job. Yes, a very important job. A job he should get back to. Any minute now.

* * *

“I’m telling you, Leia, I’m doomed. Doomed!” He tells his sister, voice muffled by his sheets. His sister laughs at him, ever so helpful, then goes back to reading her reports.

“Just tell him you like him. At least he’ll know things for sure.”

“Like that’s so easy. I’ll take any Death Star or Emperor over this.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he could feel her wince. They were Skywalkers, after all. Being dramatic was like a family trait for them.

“Little too late for that.”

“At least look on the bright side of things. He’s still in the same area as you, and still lets you teach his son. And with that armour of his, you two are a match made by the Force!”

“Go kriff yourself.”

* * *

“Din Djarin. My name is Din Djarin,” the Mandalorian, Din, tells him when Luke finished changing his bandages, his wrist caught in the man’s grasp. Luke freezes, then slowly lifts his head to look the man in his visor.

“Nice to meet you, Din.” Din chuckles softly at that, finger softly moving across his skin. It’s warm, pleasant and Luke dares to glance into his feelings. It’s warm, leaving him breathless, lust pooling across his insides like the heavy rainfalls of Yaniv, his vision blurring around the edges. He moves his other hand to cup the side of Din’s helmet, leaning forward until their foreheads met.

“Nice to meet you too, Luke,” his voice was low, a little stilted when he accidentally pulled at his wounds. There was a hand on his waist, touch heavy and grounding. Maybe this would end up okay? Was this his happy ending? He hoped so.


	2. Like catching starlight with open palms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din Djarin runs from a fate he didn't want, wishing for something to hide him in the shadows again. That's until he finds peace in a place he least expected too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the companion piece to the previous chapter, with less dialogue but added feelings! All written during my Neuropsychology lecture cause my sleep-addled brain couldn't keep up with my teacher.  
> Hope this delivers!

Din is lost for what seems like years, the world spinning around him in an alcoholic haze he can barely escape. In reality, it’s only been days, either spent at the local cantina, Peli’s or the palace Fett took over. They stare at him with sad expressions, but don’t interact with him, leaving him to wallow in his misery.

Then, one day, Fennec gets tired of his drunken sobs, taking the bottle and kicking him in the side.

“I bet your son would be delighted to see the mess his father has become.” She snarls at him, then turns sharply, and Din’s left to stare at her retreating back.

* * *

Din stares at his reflection, not recognizing the man looking back at him. Damn, he’s a mess. And he needs a shave. He considers the Darksaber on his belt, but stops before he can unhook it. There’s no guarantee that Bo-Katan won’t feel him disrespecting the blade and come to kick his face in for being a bad leader. Oh well, he already looks like the wrong end of a bantha. No need to ruin the situation even more.

* * *

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Very funny, Fett,” he collapses onto one of the couches, moving over when the material feels a little sticky to the touch. “I need a ship.”

“Are you going to chase after the Jedi?” After the world stopped spinning and he could remember how to speak in Mando’a without biting his tongue.

“Possibly. Most likely. But I can’t do that without a ship.” Fett laughs at him, the motions Fennec over, whispering something to her. She nods, giving Din a look he can’t quite decipher before leaving.

“Anything for my King.”

“Kriff you and the ship you flew in.”

* * *

Luke Skywalker. Luke ‘blew up a Death Star’ Skywalker has his son. And there’s not a kriffing trace of him in the whole Outer Rim, and he’s not about to ask his sister. He’s pretty certain he’d get dragged into the politics of the galaxy and he’s not about to start acting like a king. No way. No sire.

He stops on Nevarro to ask for a job, shocking Karga enough to fall off his chair when he walks in. Cara pats him on the shoulder, making him stumble, then hands him a few bounty pucks.

“I need information.”

“And you got exactly that,” she responds, daring him to talk back. And Din Djarin, mighty and reluctant leader of Mandalore, sweats under his helmet, nodding so fast, it almost falls off.

* * *

Jakku is nearly as bad as Tatooine. There’s still a lot of sand, he feels like he’s cooking under his armour and people are staring at him in open terror. The cantina is just as dusty, but lacks the mechanic ready to bash his head in with a wrench for being ‘the stupidest and most pathetic king she’d ever seen’.

Din sits down at the bar, nodding at the droid when it turns to serve him. His mark was last seen somewhere here, babbling about how ‘the wizards with powers from the damned had ruined his career’ and stealing things from everyone in sight. Should be an easy job. Beskar is pretty noticeable and he was not afraid to weaponize it.

His instincts start screaming at him to hide, and he lets out a long-suffering sigh. Hoping to every god that his intuition was wrong, he turns around in his seat, coming face-to-face with a scowling Bo-Katan. Kriff this planet and his whole existence.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

“Not like I was hiding.” Why did he have to leave Fett’s palace again? Right… his kid.

* * *

He has just enough time to catch his man and interrogate him about the ‘space wizard with a green sword’ who he ran into on Yavin 4 before Bo-Katan drags him away to Mandalore. It was time he stopped running and put on his big-boy armour, according to her. Din firmly disagreed with her on the matter.

“You are a fresh face who has shown himself to be very dedicated to his foundling. Also, you have a lot of capable allies and are a pretty capable warrior who honours his word,” she tells him on the way to his planet, and Din doesn’t need any weird powers to feel the disdain in her words.

Mumbling something back that vaguely resembles ‘I didn’t want it’ and ‘you should have taken the damn thing’, he settles into his seat, staring at the controls of his ship. This was going to be a long journey. Hopefully, Grogu was having a much better time than him.

* * *

Escaping the delegates of what seems like an endless amount of clans takes a few weeks. There’s always someone just around the corner ready to ask him something very important that can’t wait another minute and Bo-Katan has become his shadow, nearly following him into his own rooms too.

“I just need a week!” He complains to Cara, holocom nearly falling off the stack of books he placed it on.

“You’re the boss there, Mando, just tell them that.”

“I can’t! Everyone is counting on me for guidance,” she snorts, and he flips her off, banging his head into the table. His research wobbles dangerously, and he stares at the laws written nearly hundreds of years ago. “I just want my kid, Cara.”

“Then go. You have Bo-Whatever there to keep things together while you’re away. And is there no law about keeping contact with your kid?”

“But he’s with his own-” He freezes, eyes wide. Yes, Grogu was with a Jedi. But he wasn’t with someone of the same species. Technically, Din had just entrusted him to Skywalker until he finished with his work. Which was still bad, but still! He could visit his kid!

“I need to go!”

* * *

Yavin 4 is covered in forests, and Din finds his son in a clearing, working on an improvised garden with Skywalker. The man looks golden in the sunlight, and Din stops only to watch them for a while. He doesn’t want to intrude and destroy this picture of calm. But there’s a squeal and Grogu is rushing towards him, little hands raised. Din kneels down, and catches him when he jumps at him and where did he learn that? Is he taller? Is he a little lighter? Does he feel alright? Is he...he’s home.

* * *

Skywalker acts weird around him. He could be planning to get rid of Din so he wouldn’t put them at the risk of discovery. Or maybe he was just not comfortable with Din being there. But he still lets Din return time and time again, the Jedi temple turning into a little safe-haven away from his exhausting life on Mandalore.

Grogu is delighted to have him there, showing off every new trick he learns with a puffed up chest, waiting for his recognition with his little ears almost flat against his head. Sometimes, he asks to go exploring, finding various shiny rocks and pretty flowers while out in the forest. Those are brought back for his teacher, his son demanding Din give them over while Senator Organa, if she’s there, watches their interactions with barely hidden amusement.

* * *

Din likes watching Grogu and Luke meditate. He enjoys how his son tries to stay in one place for extended amounts of time, giving up eventually to try to catch butterflies as sneakily as he can. And Luke just opens up, expression growing soft as he connects to the world around him. There’s almost always a small smile on his face, and he seems ethereal against the backdrop of lush green trees.

Din tries to memorize every single detail of his face, comparing it to the image of the same man who decimated a whole army of droids without breaking a sweat and the goofy kid who sometimes forgets how certain things work.

Grogu coos at him, expression happy, as blue wings, struggle in his grasp. He smiles back at his son, face hidden behind his mask. He could get used to this.

* * *

“You like the Jedi,” Bo-Katan tells him when he gets back to Mandalore. He freezes mid-step, contemplating her remark. Does he?

“I don’t know.” She rolls her eyes, launching into an explanation about the newest trade-route that’s being set up with Tatooine, of all of the planets in the universe.

* * *

Someone challenges him for the throne when he stops to refuel on his way to Yavin. His signet is not familiar, but he shows experience in his fighting, nearly overpowering Din.

He doesn’t notice his wounds, too strung-up, until he finally sees Luke. Safety. He can let go now.

* * *

Din can barely hang on to consciousness when Luke lets out a high, keening sound. He turns to face him, wincing when his wounds protest against the movement.

“Are you okay?”

“I should be asking you that,” he responds, face red. Din raises an eyebrow at that, turning back around with a groan. Luke’s hands stop, and Din resists the urge to curse. Dank farrik, the kid’s enamoured. So this was what Leia was hinting at for so long.

Another realization hits him when Luke leaves him alone to get Grogu, skin tingling from the memory of his hands touching it. He likes Jedi. He really likes Luke.

* * *

“What do you think I should do?” Grogu blinks at him, munching on some fruit. Luckily, they’re alone, Luke somewhere off, most likely together with Leia.

“Cara would tell me to confess,” Din muses, and the kid lets out an ‘aboo’ that he takes as an agreement. “You like him, don’t you?”

* * *

He settles on telling him his name, hoping he would pick up on the meaning of that. A part of him wonders how the kid has managed to not share his name with his teacher, given the fact that Luke told him Grogu enjoyed chattering. But the perfect moment doesn’t come, No matter how much he waits. Either he’s loopy from the painkillers, or Bo-Katan needs something or Luke has to run because his brother-in-law got reckless again.

They’re finally alone when Luke decides to help change his bandages, tongue sticking out in concentration. Din watches him with heated cheeks, hand itching to touch him and to pull him into his lap.

“Din Djarin. My name is Din Djarin,” he tells him when Luke finishes, catching his wrist before he can pull away. The other one looks him in the eyes, and Din smiles at him.

“Nice to meet you, Din,” he lets out an involuntary chuckle rubbing his finger across the soft skin of his wrist. Luke’s expression changes, cheeks growing red while his eyes grow distant. Leia had told Din looked like this when he was trying to read the emotions around him, and he offers up as much as he can. Then he places his other hand on Din’s helmet, the metal not radiating the same warmth as the one in his grasp. Their forehead touch and he has to remember how to breathe, wondering briefly if Luke knows the meaning of that gesture.

“Nice to meet you too, Luke,” pain and emotions cloud his voice and he pulls Luke closer. There’s the shadow of his duties over his mind, but he feels happy. Like he’d managed to catch starlight in his hands, and he was not going to let go of this any time soon. 


End file.
